The Orpheus Legacy

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Alex Reeve had suffered much punishment in her life, but this was taking her to the limits of her endurance. Locked in a cell with no clue where she was, and not even any idea whether her father and Brandon were still alive. No news, no internet, no phone. Total isolation. What was Faulkner doing from his nest of corrupt power back in Washington DC?

And yet, she hadn’t given up hope. She knew what her father would say, and she stuck by it like glue. After all, he had been a prisoner of war in his youth and he knew what he was talking about. She understood the importance of keeping her mind together and not letting the bastards break her down.

But it was so hard to hold things together in a place like this.

Faulkner was evil; there was no doubt in her mind about that. He had worked hand in glove with the Oracle and his cult to unseat her democratically elected father and seize control of the White House. He was a malicious, treacherous conniving son of a bitch and if she ever got her hands on him, she’d…

Take it easy, Alex.

She breathed out slowly and calmed down.

Hang on tight or fall down hard.

In control of her emotions now, she felt her heart slow down. Another panic attack averted, but then the sound of footsteps outside her cell. Men talking in low, deep undertones. The jingle-jangle of keys and then the unmistakable noise of the lock turning.

This is it.

She gasped when she heard the bolt slide on the door. A frightening, industrial sound as metal scraped against metal and a chunky lock was turned. The sound echoed in her cell as she sat up on her bed and turned to face her captors.

Two men appeared, both wearing military fatigues and with pistols in holsters on belts around their waists. She felt a crushing sense of disappointment and destroyed hope when they walked into her cell. She knew it was crazy, but she had started to believe it was all a terrible mistake and her father had organised everything. Brought all the madness to an end.

Instead, she was looking at two men in military fatigues with serious faces. They marched into the room and loomed over her. No name tags or any other means of ID, she noted.

“Get in the chair.”

“Who are you?” she asked. “Where are you taking me?”

“Stop asking stupid questions and get in the chair.”

One of the soldiers grabbed her by the arm. “Do as I say and get in the chair or I’ll drag you into it.”

She fixed him in the eye, determined not to let him get to her. “You can’t possibly get away with what you’re doing here. You realize that, right?”

He brought his right hand up and struck her hard on the face, knocking her back down onto the bed. She felt her cheek tingle as the blood from the impact rushed up to the surface. With her head buried down in the blankets, she swore to herself that she would show no weakness. Turning to face him, she said, “You’re standing in my way.”

He dumbly looked behind him and saw he was between her and the chair. He grabbed the back of the chair and shoved it roughly over to her. “Just get in it. You have an appointment with a very busy man, and he doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

“Where are you taking me?”

“You’re going to speak with the base commander.”

They wheeled her out of the cell and through various sections of a building that resembled most airports she had ever seen. When they arrived at the base commander’s office, one of them tapped on the door respectfully.

“Come!”

They wheeled her into the office, positioned her in front of his desk and snapped to attention.

“The Prisoner, sir!”

Without looking at the soldiers, he smiled at Alex. “You’re dismissed.”

“Sir, yes sir!”

They filed out of the room and clicked the door shut. It was now she realized the radio was on in the corner and a mellow cocktail lounge jazz piano was softening the atmosphere. It gave the moment a surreal quality she had not expected.

The commander linked his tanned fingers together and rested his hands on the desk.

“Welcome to Tartarus. I’m Colonel Blanchard.”

“Where’s my father and Agent McGee?”

“Enjoying our hospitality in another section of the base. Will you testify against your father’s treason?”

The casual way he spoke such powerful words hit her like a hammer. “Screw you.”

He nodded and sighed. “I thought you’d say that, but if you don’t help us then things are looking pretty bleak for you. I’m not going to lie. Will you help us?”

Partly through anger and partly to stop him seeing them shaking, she dug her fingers into the wheelchair’s armrests. “Never.”

He nodded again. “In that case, I’ll book you in for a session with Mr Mahoe.”

“Who the hell is Mr Mahoe?” she said. “If he’s a lawyer, I’d rather use my own. Get me a phone.”

“A lawyer,” he said. “That’s a good one.”

“So, who is he? Your boss?”

He chuckled. “No, he’s not my boss.. he’s sort of a persuader.”

She felt her blood run cold. “You mean a torturer?”

“Hey, you say potato… now take the brakes off that thing. You’re leaving.”

He pushed the intercom button on his desk and a man answered. “Send them in again.”

“Sir.”

The soldiers walked back onto the room and snapped to attention once again with crisp salutes, long way up, short way down.

“Take her back to her cell and brief Mr Mahoe that he’s needed.”

The two men looked at each other, fear crossing their faces. “Sir, yes sir!”

She took the brakes off and one of them walked ahead while the other wheeled her out of the commander’s office.

“I’ll give you just one more chance to think it over, Alex,” Blanchard called out behind her. “After that, you’re Mr Mahoe’s.”

With Mr Mahoe echoing in her mind, they wheeled her away from the soft jazz of Blanchard’s office. Miles of corridors trundled past her as they pushed her around left-hand corners and right-hand corners and down long straights. Minutes passed as they went deeper into the complex, all the while she grew more and more nervous.

A lawyer… that’s a good one.

Eventually they pulled up at the large steel door of her cell and pushed her inside. As they closed the door on her, the tall one said one last thing. “For God’s sake, tell him what he wants to know.”

And then the door slammed shut.